Fated From The Start

11

TW!! Mention of abuse

Madeline-

I wake up gently, feeling warm and smothered in it. 

Warmth.

Something I've been lacking for so long. Feeling it, expressing it, receiving it. I know some people consider me cold-hearted, but I choose to believe that it's not true. How could I be so cold-hearted, and still have to much love to share?

What people don't understand is, just because I don't love people easily or often, doesn't mean that I don't love at all. My love is simply reserved for the people who deserve it, as I feel it should be. Jeremy didn't deserve my love, and I hate that I gave any snippet of my heart to him, but I know now that I wasn't the problem.

He was.

It was never my fault that he hit me, never even my fault that I struggled to leave him. I had a will and I found a way, I made it happen. I left him, and I thank myself for that everyday.

A sweet smile tugs at my lips, feeling quite proud of myself for the first time, in a long time. My eyes are still closed, warmth still coating my body. I feel the heat of the sun, my warm, fuzzy blanket, Tri at my toes, and... a chest beneath me?

My eyes finally blink open, meeting the same chest I seem to have been staring at for the past twenty-four hours.

Oh.

Last night was... 

Oh.

As I go to unhook my leg from where it's wrapped around Malcolm, I feel the soreness tucked between my thighs and suddenly rethink the decision. I mean, maybe I should stay here until he ways up anyways. In all honesty, his chest isn't half bad to sleep on, stare at, or get fucked on-

He grumbles, stirring slightly awake, but not for long. With an incoherent mumble, he simply turns his lips down to the top of my head, pressing his lips against the knotted hair there. In return, since I know he's asleep and won't call me out for it later, I also nuzzle further into him.

Warm, so warm, and now I know why. His heavy arm draped across my waist, pressing me right into him. Something about the way he holds me, touches me, fucks me- it shows me that he's entitled. But the way he speaks to me, soothes me, and once again, holds me, shows me his hesitation. I've pretty much gathered that he knew about me long before it was mutual, gathering that through the timeline of last night. The way he kissed me so passionately and desperately, eagerly and with ease. That want doesn't only stem from lust, it stems from time spent wanting someone, waiting on someone.

I can't believe that for him, I'm that someone.

I feel lucky, that this god-like man is even attracted to me, but I also wonder if he would've ever wanted me if not for our situation. 

If we were at a bar, which we would likely never be since I don't like drinking, but hypothetically, would he ever bat a lash at me? See me dancing on the floor after some too many drinks, and decide that he wanted to take me home that night? Maybe even keep me in his home for a couple nights more? I'm curious to know, but also relieved to have it be unknown for now.

Because the truth is, I would do a double take for him, our situation being set in place or not. Raven hair, deep blue eyes, cherry plump lips, and over six-feet of height, he's perfection. Like a masterpiece sculpted in heaven, only being sent to Earth after he's brushed and smoothed over to ultimate blissfulness to look at. 

Someone so incredible, looks and personality wise, shouldn't be with me on their own free will. In comparison of him, and most women, I'm lacking. I have minimal cleavage, a tummy that I hide more often than not, thick thighs, and unshaven armpits in the winter. I think all women, all people, really- are so beautiful. And while I agree that someone else's beauty doesn't take away from my own, I disagree that I shouldn't be insecure because of it. I feel rightful to feel embarrassed having my stomach out in public, and why wouldn't I?